


your heart felt good (it was dripping pitch and made of wood)

by bellamees



Category: Infinite (Band), Miss A
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bravo Viewtiful AU, F/M, Fluff, Idol Life, Secret Crush, Slice of Life, if that is a thing at all, mentions of Infinite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellamees/pseuds/bellamees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A heart is a hollow organ. It’s supposed to be filled with blood, rush it through one's body, beating life into one's (also) hollow soul. It’s protected by a wall made of bone, the breastbone, the armor. Sometimes Myungsoo will put his hand over the ribcage, searching for the sound, the slow thump, thump, thump. The reality lacks romance, he thinks. There’s no love there, only blood. That’s his heart disease.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart felt good (it was dripping pitch and made of wood)

**Author's Note:**

> previously posted on livejournal.

A heart is a hollow organ. It’s supposed to be filled with blood, rush it through one's body, beating life into one's (also) hollow soul. It’s protected by a wall made of bone, the breastbone, the armor. Sometimes Myungsoo will put his hand over the ribcage, searching for the sound, the slow _thump, thump, thump_. The reality lacks romance, he thinks. There’s no love there, only blood. That’s his heart disease.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Myungsoo has been writing. He writes in hope to create a different reality - sleep, practice, stage, sleep, practice, stage. That’s one reality. There should be another, or so it feels like. He scribbles fast on a piece of paper, a journal, barely there, changing his own history, filling the void, going through the photographs on the screen of his camera.  
  
"What are you writing?"  
  
The question comes from the girl sitting two chairs away from him. She’s getting her makeup done, like him. Suzy Bae, he knows her from another broadcast, wears curiosity all over her face (which certainly match her looks, if he was to have an opinion).  
  
"I’m writing a book."  
  
"What about?"  
  
"My heart."  
  
She makes a face - _odd_ , she's probably thinking (she is), but she's not rude enough to say so. In fact, she quickly smiles, _good luck, let me read it when you're done_. _I will_ , he says, and wonders what she will say then. Someone yells they need to be ready to film in three minutes.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He gets used to Suzy’s curiosity through filming. Her heart isn't hollow, he's sure. Her nickname makes perfect sense - _nation's first love_ (he watched her movie two days before, Dongwoo cried at the end, he thought she looked pretty when she was heartbroken). "How many chapters have you written?", she asks, it's the seventh time she does so (he always gives vague answers). It bothers him just a little.  
  
"I’m taking pictures and writing as I go, for one year."  
  
"Well - let’s take a picture, then."  
  
Suzy takes his camera from his hands without asking (that's how she usually works) (that's why her heart isn't hollow), he gets mad enough to glare, but the picture comes out so well he lets it go. Five days later, he sees her face smiling in the dark room, developing into colors bright. He decides that's a keeper. The picture, that is.  
  
(He says in an interview, almost a year later; _through the lens of a camera, I was able to see things that were ignored before_.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Filming takes them to a beach nearby Incheon, the coastal air filling everyone's lungs for the day's worth of filming. The ocean is grand, infinite, the different shades of blue crashing in the horizon; turquoise, azure, teal. If he were to like colors, then those would be the ocean's. Myungsoo falls in love with it the moment he sees it, as it always happens whenever he's close to the water - he keeps falling in love with it through the day, his heart filling with saltwater (it'll dry later when they leave, leaving only salt on his insides).  
  
When nighttime greets them, involving everything in a dark, chilly sphere, he's sitting on the sand, apart from the crew, a needed rest, journal in hands. It doesn't take too long until Suzy joins him (he sighs briefly, closing his journal) (he had written her name once or twice) (and scratched it). "Brought you food."  
  
He eats, Suzy picks on his food once in a while, he lets her. Later, she tells him she loves the ocean that way. _You can't see it_ , he replies. _But you can smell it, hear it, feel it_ , she retorts, and there's an easy smile on her lips as she admires the darkness beyond her. Her lips are still velvety red from shooting, he wonders why red isn't his favorite color.  
  
(On September 28th, he writes; _I like the color black the most. It reminds me of the sea beyond the night_.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Suzy is filming under a tree that looks as golden as the evening sky, when everything turns to a deep shade of orange and shadows, the city oscillating between contrast and reality. There is a rush of cold air, her hair waves around her, a halo made of dark materials. He holds his camera tight. Shutter, _click_. Another keeper.  
  
(On September 29th, he writes; _the four seasons. I like autumn the best_.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Take a picture of something for me."  
  
Suzy had said that before - she's interested in his photography, reason why he now has around fifty-seven photos of cats on his memory card. Myungsoo lets her drag him away from the filming crew, walking through families and couples holding hands on the boardwalk (she holds his wrist for a while, but lets it go), until they reach the shore. She points with a skinny finger; he doesn't need to look to _see_.  
  
The beach is bathed in red, and the sunset is the most beautiful he has ever seen. The colors reach them in moments, and Suzy laughs, her hair reflecting fire, Myungsoo thinks he can feel his skin burning. It fills his heart with sharp colors (they'll fade, almost entirely, the next day). He takes pictures of everything Suzy seems to love the most.  
  
(On October 1st, he writes; _in my whole life time, it was the reddest sunset I have ever seen._ )  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There are just a few more episodes to film, he realizes at some point in November, going through pictures of the shootings. His heart - his heart feels heavier now, solid. Myungsoo puts a hand over the ribcage, _thump, thump, thump_. All normal. _Maybe the blood is weighting it down_ , he thinks. His photographs flicker in front of his eyes on the screen of a laptop, he goes through the ones that won't make it to the book. He decides to develop them anyway, they're keepers.  
  
(The next day, he leaves them in an envelope near Suzy’s bag - it says "those were your favorites" on one side.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Don’t you just love this river?"  
  
Myungsoo is always impressed by Suzy’s ability to love. Her heart is filled with it, like it belonged to a cherub in a previous life. He steals it from her, love, to fill his wooden heart. It’s softer now, easier to bend, easier to work on, he notices. He writes less, photographs more. He sees beyond the ordinary, filling the void with warmth, and photos of cats (and food, definitely Suzy’s favorites). Myungsoo is afraid to lose the stolen love, once it's time to say goodbye.  
  
"You should come here at night, it's even more beautiful," he tells her, the director scolds them for not paying attention; _we should come together_ , she says. _We should_.  
  
(On November 12th, he writes; _the Han River is beautiful at night. it shines just like your eyes._ )  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They’re ready for the last scene, the closure for star-crossed lovers on the sixteen-episode drama. He stands in front of Suzy, she looks different somehow. He realizes he's shaking (it's cold, he tells himself, and that's a lie). Someone is saying it’s okay if they get it wrong, _NGs will go to the DVD_ \- Myungsoo is barely paying attention. And then the _action!_ comes _,_ his heart goes _thump, thump, thump_ until he cannot breathe. It’s not hollow anymore.  
  
They only need one shot to get it perfect, and three more from different angles (she stares at him, eyes clouded; he doesn't complain having to do it again, neither does she). Suzy tastes exactly like he imagined (he did); of apples as red as the sunset she had showed him.  
  
(On November 20th, he writes; _I don't want you to run away with your foggy but innocent eyes_.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When something ends, the remains are often buried under dirt - physical or immaterial. Myungsoo, breastbone broken by a girl named Suzy, fails to do so. His heart, once hollow wood guarded by armor, drips love everywhere, unprotected, raw. But promotions end, normality settles, stale like a cold winter morning. Suzy calls every now and then, he calls every now and then, they’re _friends_. He goes out to take pictures, she does interviews, he practices, and she models, apart, always apart.  
  
In his search for undying, romantic love to fill his heart, he never thought of the horrible consequences he was about to face; to be in love is to be in constant fear of losing something you can't fathom.  
  
He sees her on stage, there's a hole on his chest.  
  
(On December 4th, he writes; _same place but different roads_.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He’s watching her movie again. There’s whiteness around Suzy, her yellow scarf makes her look prettier, her eyes are sad. Myungsoo turns it off. Outside his window, the city is white as well.  
  
(On December 5th, he writes; _I’m getting drawn into the whiteness_.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
There’s a beep on his phone, Suzy sent him a picture. It’s her room, he can tell;  his photographs - her favorites - look back at him, covering an entire wall behind her bed.  Another message comes in.  
  
 _it's going to be a best-seller. Merry Christmas, Myungsoo. Love, Suzy._  
  
His heart bleeds all over the place, _thump, thump, thump_. Heart failure.  
  
(On December 23rd, he writes; _from the place I am right now, the distance from where you are, ah..._ )  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They meet again during a broadcast in Imjingak. Suzy’s nose is red, her lips slightly frost nipped. "Take a picture of something for me," she says, he follows. They walk through heavy snow to find a field full of the most colorful pinwheels he'd seen, blues, yellows, reds - a water-colored painting on a snow white canvas. He feels warm amidst the cold wind. Suzy holds his hand this time; his heart is back on his chest, mended, healed, sealed under bones. Myungsoo puts his free hand over his ribcage, _thump, thump, thump_. It’s filled with hope, and _her_.  
  
Shutter, click, it's a keeper.  
  
(On December 31st, he writes; _this place, I definitely want to come here again_.)


End file.
